


Wings To Fly

by TourmalineQueen



Category: Assassin's Creed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:57:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1390264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altair is sexed out. Malik takes advantage to improve his artistic ability. Smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings To Fly

**Author's Note:**

> I know you hoped for an AU, Anon, but I just had to have them in the pillow-strewn Bureau. Also I used Roman Baths for a plot-point (and went hopelessly anachronistic, too) I hope this is acceptable.

Three fics in one day! The Muses are returning!

From the Kinkmeme Part Four, Page 8  
Prompt: _Everyone knows that wing tattoos are almost always tacky as it gets. But still, I'd love to see Malik drawing (With ink? With henna? I don't know, figuer this one out) wings on Altair's back and shoulders (like that:_<http://i44.tinypic.com/1z582yt.jpg>).  
Bonus points if it's a modern AU and Altair decides he likes it so much he's going to get it inked permanently.

Title: Wings To Fly  
Summary: Altair is sexed out. Malik takes advantage to improve his artistic ability. Smut.  
Author's Note: I know you hoped for an AU, Anon, but I just had to have them in the pillow-strewn Bureau. Also I used Roman Baths for a plot-point (and went hopelessly anachronistic, too) I hope this is acceptable.

*-*-*  
  
Something was tickling just beneath Altair's awareness. He woke slowly from his sex-induced coma, irritated that the deep sleep he craved was being taken so rudely from him.

The tickling sensation stopped, and Altair felt a hand warm on his back.

"Sleep, Altair. I will be done soon enough," came Malik's voice.

Altair nodded slepily, shifted slightly, so he was sprawled more comfortably on his belly, Malik's pillow beneath his hips, his own under his chin, one arm stretched up and around it, the other flung loosely at his side. Altair never felt safer than when in Malik's bed.

He had almost dozed off again when he once more felt the tickling on his spine. He lifted his head and, in a motion that made his neck protest, he turned to glare at his lover.

"I am trying to sleep, Malik. Can this ... whatever it is ... can it not wait until the morning?"

"Will you lie still in the morning?" Malik asked pointedly.

"I ... might ..." Altair said, less than confidently.

"Go back to sleep, Novice. I will be done soon enough."

Altair slept.

*-*

Altair woke to the not-unpleasant sensation of Malik fondling his manhood. Altair smirked into his pillow; he knew Malik enjoyed waking him with climax, and nothing was going to prevent Altair from enjoying Malik's sure touch.

He shifted slightly, moving off his belly to spoon against his lover, sleepily nuzzling Malik's neck.

"Awake, are you?" Malik murmured, squeezing Altair's shaft teasingly. Altair moaned shamelessly.

He rolled onto his back and spread his legs wide to encourage Malik. Malik chuckled; he enjoyed having the Grand Master all to himself, more than he would openly admit to the man, but mostly he loved that Altair had no inhibitions whatsoever when alone in his company. He gave Altair an expert twist, and pumped him to full hardness. Malik climbed over Altair and knelt between his open legs, his one arm resting on Altair's abdomen for balance.

"Come for me, fly for me, my great Eagle," he murmured, before swallowing the weeping cockhead.

Altair almost bucked him off, moaning like a man in pain. Malik gripped Altair's inner thigh, and began to stroke it gently, intimately. Not for the first time, Malik wished he had both arms: his arousal was almost enough to knock him flying, without Altair's responses to inflame his need further. He laved and flicked the arrowhead just under the head of Altair's cock, and slid more of him into his mouth, cheek puffing out obscenely. Altair looked down his body at Malik, and almost came at the erotic sight. He flailed an arm to catch Malik by the hair. Malik shook his head slowly, the movement doing things to Altair's cock that ought not be possible. He loosened his vicelike grip, and Malik chuckled again, with Altair now deep in his throat, and the vibration and the hot wetness threw Altair over the edge, keening as he bucked his hips up, and spent his seed into Malik's mouth.

Altair wasn't sure how long he lay there, stunned and satiated, when Malik turned him over onto his belly, and the tickling began again.

"Now, perhaps, you will be still and permit me to finish what I began last night?" Malik asked.

Altair hoped the Dai did not require a verbal answer.

*-*

Eventually Malik allowed the Grand Master the privilege of getting up from his bed. The one-armed Dai refused to explain what he had done to the other's back, however.

Altair performed his ablutions quickly, but paused before the mirrors in the bathhouse; one on each wall reflected what was between them perfectly so that bathgoers could see themselves as they preened. On Altair's back, in exquisite detail, was inked an eagle's wing over each shoulder.

*-*

In the Bureau, later that day, Altair surprised Malik, by appearing in the thinnest linen robe imaginable. It was all but transparent. Altair vaulted over the desk, and pointedly turned his back to Malik.

"You did not wash it off, then?" Malik said warily.

"I did not wash it off. I came that you might..." Altair trailed off, searching for the right words.

"That I might wash off what I so painstakingly put there?" Malik spat.

"That you might reccommend a place where it might be made permanent without poisoning my blood," Altair countered. "After all, the Eagle of Masyaf needs wings to fly."  
  
*-*-*


End file.
